105: Neither is Love a Cage
by cali-chan
Summary: Love is the freedom of flying accompanied. It is letting be without possessing. PG-13 (possibly M later on), drama/romance/angst, Zuko/Katara Aang/Toph, post-finale but diverges before LoK canon.
1. Chapter 1

**Neither is Love a Cage****,** _Chapter 1_. PG-13 (possibly M later on), drama/romance/angst, Zuko/Katara + Aang/Toph, post-finale but diverges before LoK canon.  
_Love is the freedom of flying accompanied. It is letting be without possessing._

**Note****:** Rated PG-13 for now— might go up to M in the future, who knows. Will include some Sokka/Suki if I can manage to fit them in. Post-finale but canon divergent later on. Story starts some fifteen years after the ending of AtLA, and while some things from LoK will remain, some others will not. See author's note at the end of chapter 1 for more details.

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_[Harbor City, South Pole - 115 AG]_

Katara smiled as she demonstrated to one of her younger students how to control a basic water whip. The girl was very enthusiastic about being able to waterbend, and had obviously practiced the movements as her teacher had instructed in their previous lesson, but in her eagerness she performed them a little too fast and too sharply, causing her to lose control of the blob of water she'd pulled up so that it ended up splattering all over the ice in front of them. It didn't mean anything about this student in particular; it was an issue many of her younger students had to deal with, as the concept of ebb and flow and the smoothness required for waterbending did not come easy to young children.

The girl nodded at Katara's guidance and tried it again, this time a little more carefully— her little tongue was peeking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration and Katara thought it was the most adorable thing— and eventually managed to hold the clumsy whip a little longer than she had before. The second the water was out of her grasp, the girl turned to Katara with wide eyes and a bright, gap-toothed grin.

Katara's own smile widened as she patted her little student's head encouragingly. "That was great, Yuka! I'm so proud of you." The girl beamed at her before turning to the water to try again. Katara took that opportunity to pan her gaze over the rest of the younger group, all of whom were similarly practicing, and then toward the right where her older students were split into pairs so they could spar. It was as she was looking in that direction that she noticed someone was approaching the training grounds, and it didn't take long to realize it was her older brother.

"Katara!" he yelled as he waved a hand in the air to get her attention as he ran toward her, or at least speed-walked as fast as the ice under his feet would allow. Katara rolled her eyes. For a man over 30 with a ridiculous amount of responsibilities both within their tribe and in the world at large, Sokka somehow still managed to find enough free time in his schedule to come bug her at the training grounds every other day. She figured even after achieving _some_ kind of maturity, Sokka was still going to be Sokka no matter what.

Not that that stopped her from complaining, of course. She crossed her arms, adopting a no-nonsense posture. "Students," she said in a loud voice so that everyone, including Sokka, would hear her. "What do we tell Representative Sokka when he interrupts our lessons?" On cue, the younger students started booing and glaring as her brother approached the group, the teenagers off to the side chuckling to themselves at the kids' theatrics.

Sokka, with all the dignity bestowed by his position as the Representative of the Unified Southern Water Tribes to the United Republic of Nations Council, deftly ignored the jeers and sneers of her group of pre-pubescent pupils as he made his way toward her. "Katara, I'm serious—"

"No, really, Sokka..." She shook her head and waved him off with a hand as he made his way to her side. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time than come annoy me while I'm attempting to teach a class? I know you want the kids to ooh and aah over your 'heroic deeds' or whatever, but can't you do that on your own time—"

"_Katara!_" Sokka exclaimed, and there was an edge of alarm in his tone that effectively stalled her complaints mid-sentence. Her gaze immediately met her brother's in surprise, and when it registered with her just how _worried_ he looked, she felt a pit open at the bottom of her stomach.

"What's wrong?" she asked anxiously, her mind already running through the possibilities of everything that could possibly have happened to make Sokka so apprehensive.

"We just got word," he started, gasping a bit for breath as he was still winded by the run— erm, speed walk. He paused for a second to regain his bearings. "The Fire Lady..." he finally explained. "She's passed away." As his words registered with her, she could almost feel her heart halt inside her chest.

_Zuko._

Her students, realizing that something important was going on, had quieted down and silently surrounded the pair, curious as to what was making their waterbending teacher and one of the leaders of their tribe so uneasy. When Sokka's news was revealed, there were gasps of shock from the older students, and murmurs of confusion from the youngest, who were still too tender-aged to understand.

Katara could barely hear any of it. Clenching her hands into fists at her sides, she pursed her lips and looked up at her brother, her voice not faltering for one second. "We have to sail for the Fire Nation," she declared. "As soon as possible."

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_[Future site of the URN Capital City in Yue Bay, United Republic of Nations]_

Aang stretched his back luxuriously against the soft cotton of his bedsheets, trying to extend the deep-seated feeling of post-coital satisfaction for just a little bit longer. "You... are a _terrible_ influence on me," he said with a small laugh as he turned his head to the side to smile at his companion— her head was resting against his shoulder, so all he managed was to end up with his nose buried in her dark hair... not that he minded all that much.

Toph snorted, as she's wont to do. "I'm taking that as a compliment," she said. Aang wanted to say something sarcastic in return but didn't. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the tips of her fingers sliding over his skin— she was trailing a hand down his chest and enticingly close to the area around his bellybutton, and it was proving to be _very_ distracting. "Seriously, I don't know what would become of you if I weren't around to pull you out of those _boring_ meetings."

She had a point. Not that Aang was complaining about his job, mind you; he loved being the Avatar and protecting the peace and getting to talk to people and help everyone achieve balance where needed, but a lot of things had been set in motion over the past couple of years, and he was juggling a lot of different responsibilities nowadays. Between supervising the planning and construction of the future URN Capital City, settling down in an island just off the coast in Yue Bay, and aiding the Air Acolytes with the organization of their new self-sustaining society while teaching them as much about Air Nomad culture as he could while also writing down as much of it as he could to pass it down to future airbender generations to make up for all the information that was lost in the genocide, Aang was _very_ busy and, indeed, a _lot_ of it involved being present at countless meetings. Sometimes he had more meetings than waking hours in a day. It was encouraging, but tiring. He'd be lying if he said Toph's visits didn't help him relax, and not just in the obvious way.

Over the last few days, though, all those tasks had been the last thing on his mind. "I probably wouldn't have been able to focus on any of those meetings, honestly," he mumbled, bringing something of a cloud to the contentment of their afterglow.

Toph turned her head in the direction of his voice and nuzzled his shoulder with her nose. "You worried about Sparky?" she asked, correctly guessing what was weighing on his mind. It didn't take a master-level earthbending sixth sense to figure that one out; she was just perceptive that way.

Aang sighed. "It just... it really sucks that we can't be there for him," he admitted, almost inadvertently starting to run his hand down the dark cascade that was Toph's long hair. He really loved doing that. One of the benefits of... whatever this was that he and Toph were doing... was that sometimes he got to see her with her hair down. He never got to see her that way outside of these moments.

She poked him teasingly in the ribs and he laughed. He couldn't help it; he was ticklish and she knew it. "Uncle Iroh is with him, and his mom," she reminded him pointedly. "And Snoozles said in his letter that he's dropping Sugar Queen off in the Fire Nation before coming here. He's not alone. They'll hold him up until we can get there and throw rocks at him to snap him out of his funk."

He laughed again. "I don't think throwing rocks at people is an appropriate way to help them deal with their grief, Toph," he said amusedly shaking his head. Any other person probably wouldn't have been able to make him laugh at such a somber time, but Toph was unique that way.

She shrugged rather snottily. "Hey, don't knock it till you try it." With a sudden burst of energy, she pushed herself up to her knees beside him; the sheet that had been wrapped around her torso fell down to onto bed and unwittingly gave him a rather enticing view of her nude body. None the wiser, she leaned forward over him and cupped his face softly in her hands. This was another thing she often did that he loved; intellectually, he knew she only did it because she couldn't see and it helped her aim properly at his lips when she was going to kiss him, but it also came across as a tender gesture of sorts, and the idea of Toph possibly expressing affection with a gentle touch rather than with punches made it feel all the more special somehow.

Pulling back from the kiss, she gave him a sharp little nod. "Don't worry yourself to death, Twinkles. He'll be fine," she declared with finality before pushing herself up and off the bed. She stood there for a couple of seconds, most likely using her bending to locate her clothes, which in their earlier eagerness had been discarded all over the floor, alongside his.

Immediately feeling her absence from his arms, Aang pushed himself up on his elbows and frowned. "You're leaving already?" he asked as she took a couple of steps forward, once again unknowingly giving him an alluring view of her backside as she bent down to pick up her uniform. Except now he was wondering whether she knew exactly what she was doing because, come to think of it, she really did this sort of thing quite often when they were together like this.

"Yep," Toph said as she buttoned up her clothes and sat down on the edge of the bed so she could make sure the hem of her pants was located properly around her ankles and wouldn't slide down and obfuscate her feet-vision. "It's good for me to go MIA for a little while— it lulls my idiot cadets into a false sense of security— but I do have to go back and teach them something eventually."

Not for the first time, Aang felt sorry for the police force cadets; he knew more than anyone how tough Toph could be when she was trying to teach you something important. That said, that was precisely why he'd suggested she take the Chief of Police job in the first place: she would do things in her own way, but she would take her charge seriously, and the results would vindicate her methods.

Still, he couldn't help a little dejected about her quick exit. Couldn't she stay for a little longer? Maybe he could show her the latest Air Nomad relics he'd just received from the Eastern Air Temple. Some of them were interesting metal alloys; she'd probably like that. And it would help him keep his mind off Zuko and his recent tragedy.

Halfway through putting her hair up in her usual bun (something she must've had a lot of practice with since she did it with exceptional dexterity— and skill, not one hair out of place— considering she couldn't see herself even with a mirror), she once again demonstrated her perceptiveness when she commented, "Your silence speaks volumes, Twinkletoes."

He couldn't help but huff a little in exasperation, pushing himself up a little so that his back rested against the headboard of his bed and his arms were free so he could cross them. "I just wish you wouldn't scurry out of here every time like we just did something wrong," he declared in a disappointed tone, studying her movements as she finished pinning her hair up in place. "I mean, would it be so terrible to just stay for a while longer and, I don't know, talk or something? I mean, I'm trying to repopulate my race here, and if I just get to see you once a month that's not—"

Aang cut himself off abruptly, knowing very well what he'd just been about to blurt out was something she was _definitely_ not going to like. It was too late, though; Toph paused sharply in her movement to get off the bed and Aang knew she could infer what he'd been about to say either way. "I thought that's what your groupies are for," she said in a snide tone before finally pushing herself to her feet, all dressed and ready to go.

Aang scowled at her even though she couldn't see it. "They're not _groupies_, they're Air Acolytes, and they've pledged to preserve—"

"And I'm sure any one of them would be more than happy to make lots of airbending babies with you," she interrupted him harshly. "You're totally free to sleep with other people, Aang. I am," she finished with a shrug, sounding entirely too casual for his taste.

He knew she was. He knew she'd slept with other men in between their encounters, but that didn't mean it didn't sting. He should've known, back when he and Toph started this... whatever it was... all those years ago, that it was a very bad idea. He wasn't made for this ambiguous, no-strings-attached, friends-during-the-daytime but sex-partners-behind-the-curtains kind of relationship. It just wasn't him.

When he thought about it, it really felt like a failure on more than one level on his part. Air Nomads didn't exactly believe in monogamy; yes, sometimes bonding ceremonies— sort of the Air Nomad equivalent of marriage— were held for two people who developed a particularly intense emotional connection, but it was more of a way of honoring that connection rather than committing to another person. For the most part spirituality was more important to his people than any earthly attachments, including romantic love; based on that, they had a different concept of what family was. Children were raised not by their progenitors but by the community as a whole. Aang never knew who his birth parents were, and had never felt his life any lessened for it.

Along those same lines, sex was seen as a means of reproduction and sating temporary urges, not as an expression of an emotional bond. It was quite common for Air Nomad monks and nuns, even those who were bonded, to take many different sex partners through the course of their reproductive years. But that was something Aang really struggled with. He knew since he was freed from that iceberg over fifteen years previous that he was different from the rest of the Air Nomads when it came to relationships. His relationship with Katara might not have lasted forever as he thought it would when he was twelve, but if there was one thing he'd learned from it, it was that he was more in tune with the concept of family that was taught in the other nations than that of his own. He wanted to love one woman more than anything in the world. He wanted to have the absolute certainty in his heart that he would spend the rest of his life beside that person, complementing each other, supporting each other, raising their children together if they should be so lucky to have them.

And this clandestine thing he had with Toph clashed spectacularly with those ideals, and he should've known better than to get attached. Of course, one could argue he'd been attached even before their physical relationship started. She was the only woman he'd ever been with. He'd dated Katara for many years but he'd still been a bit young for full-on sex even by the end, or at least he felt that's what _Katara_ thought. Their relationship hadn't been completely innocent, but they'd never gone all the way— Katara always pulled back when things got intense and Aang wasn't confident enough to push further. Then this thing with Toph started really quickly after his breakup, out of curiosity more than anything else, but they were close and he liked Toph so why not give it a try? By now they'd been doing this dance on and off for nearly a decade, and Aang really should've known better than to complain. But he couldn't help it.

"I know," he said, swallowing hard down a dry throat as he tried to ignore the way his chest felt like it was being crushed. He didn't exactly want to talk about her other sexual partners any more than she wanted to talk about their little... arrangement. It was a kind of unspoken rule: they didn't talk about it. They met up, they did the deed, they joked around a little when they had the time, then they went on with their lives like nothing had ever happened between them. Best friends with no long-term plans other than normal friendly things.

But Aang _was_ the last airbender, after all, and he couldn't just ignore that he had a moral imperative to at least start the repopulation of the Air Nomads... except the idea of sleeping with someone else just to achieve that goal felt wrong to him for some reason, and it bothered him that she seemed to have no problem with it.

It's not like he was about to ask her to marry him or something, but... would it be so bad just to hang out for a little longer? They lived in the same city and he felt like he barely saw her. He wanted to spend more time with her. He liked Toph. He _really_ liked her. Not just in a sexual way, either. He and Toph understood each other. She could tell when he was lying to himself even when he actually believed his own lies. She cut through all the bullshit like it was the easiest thing in the world and helped him see things more clearly than he ever would on his own. She made him laugh like no one else could. They had so much fun together, even outside the bedroom. She was steady as a rock and always had her feet on the ground when he felt like he had so much going on in his head that he was one step away from flying off into the stratosphere, and not in the good way. And he just... he loved being with her, in any capacity. Did she not feel that?

"I know," he repeated somberly. "I just wish I was enough for someone to stay."

She turned toward the bed— she couldn't exactly glare at him but she could sort of narrow her eyes in his general direction. "You're the only one I ever come back to," she admitted in a serious manner, arms crossed. "Doesn't that make you feel special?"

Her matter-of-fact tone only made him feel angrier. "I don't want to be special," he threw back, shaking his head in a disillusioned manner. He was already special enough. Maybe too special in ways that made him feel completely separate from everybody else. No, he didn't want to be special. He wanted to be normal. "I want to be loved."

Toph was quiet for a long moment. Then she took a deep breath and released it slowly, almost in a sigh. "Well," she said as she took a couple of steps closer to him. She leaned forward, supporting her weight with her arms against the mattress, and brought her face close enough to him that she could speak in a low tone and still have him hear her. "It's not always about you, Avatar."

With one more pause at the end of the sentence as if for dramatic effect, she pushed away from the bed and turned around, making her way to the door without another word and leaving Aang on the bed feeling quite unsettled.

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_[Royal Caldera City, Fire Nation]_

Zuko tried yet again to read the scroll that was unfurled on the table in front of him, but he still couldn't manage it. It was like the words blurred on the paper every time he tried. He had spent the last fifteen minutes struggling with this, telling himself over and over that he had to focus, but it proved futile. Thank goodness this wasn't some kind of urgent matter, because his mind just wasn't in it.

He was glad that his uncle was around to take over the majority of his Fire Lord duties. Initially Zuko had meant to keep on working as usual; he declared that the best way to deal with grief was to not dwell on it, and as such keeping his mind on work would be an ideal way to push himself to move on. Uncle Iroh had delicately pointed out that Zuko wasn't really known for "not dwelling on things," and if he was going to be thinking about it nonstop either way, he might as well take the time off work to do it properly. Zuko had no choice but to agree, if reluctantly. Now he was glad for it. His uncle was right: he was going to be thinking about it, anyway, and at least his way he wasn't completely shirking his responsibilities in his despondency.

Well, not that he _wasn't_ doing that either way. Yes, Uncle Iroh was overseeing the Fire Nation during Zuko's period of bereavement, in particular the organization and logistics of the Fire Lady's public funeral, but Zuko still had to approve the costs, which was what he was currently attempting to do. Except it shouldn't take him twenty minutes to read through and sign one measly piece of paper. His mind was all over the place.

He just felt so _guilty_.

This wasn't a particularly novel thing for Zuko. He'd been carrying guilt for _something or other_ in his life since practically the day he was born. He screwed all sorts of things up on a regular basis, and he was used to feeling the weight of it on his shoulders all the time— even now, far into his tenure as Fire Lord. But he was also used to feeling the implacable need to _make up_ for whatever idiotic mistake he had committed, the relentless urge to _fix_ whatever it was that he did wrong. Except there was no _fixing_ this. There was nothing he could do to assuage this kind of guilt. Death was final.

He sighed deeply and rubbed at his face with his hand. He once again shook his head and told himself to _focus, damn it_. He grabbed the piece of paper and lifted it up straight into his line of vision, determined to get it done this time. He was only a few lines in when he heard the door to his office open. Figuring it was just his mother bringing in that cup of tea she had promised earlier, he didn't look up. However, it was not his mother's voice that came when the silence broke.

"My Lord," said the guard that was stationed outside his door that day, "you have a visitor from the Southern Water Tri—"

"Zuko!" Katara, obviously not having enough patience to wait for the guard to finish introducing her, pushed past the armored man like he was nothing but a mannequin and quickly made her way toward him. Zuko barely had time to drop the scroll and stand up before she barreled into his arms.

"Oh, Zuko..." she said almost in a sigh, squeezing him with her arms as if the gesture alone was enough to convey all her empathy. It worked. Zuko wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her as close as he could, closing his eyes as he leaned into her embrace.

He'd never admit it out loud, but he had needed this. Yes, both his uncle and his mother had taken the time to hug him the day his wife passed, and he was incredibly grateful for their presence, but he'd still been a bit in shock at that point, a little out of it, unable to process it all. In the two weeks since, he had regained his bearings for the most part, and his relatives had allowed him the personal space to do that in his own way. Zuko would never ask for a hug— it was unbecoming of the Fire Lord, and Fire Nation people weren't very touchy-feely to begin with— but now that he was in Katara's arms, he could feel the reassurance she meant to convey down to his bones.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes— Zuko didn't hear when the guard tiptoed out of the room and closed the door behind him, and Katara didn't seem to notice it, either— until it was finally Katara herself who pulled back, just enough that she could look him in the eye. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking worried about him. She lifted her arms from around his shoulders and moved to cup his face carefully. The tips of her fingers touched the edge of his scar when she did. "You look thin. Have you been eating properly? You really need to eat something— I should get you something to eat right now—"

She meant to turn away and make for the door, but Zuko's arms were still around her waist and he quickly held her in place. "Katara," he called out, trying to pull her attention back to him. She was still babbling about the importance of regular meals, but his firm tone was enough to snap her out of her jabbering. He smiled at her lightly— really just a small curling up of the corners of his mouth, but it was more than he'd managed since his wife passed. "I'm sure the rather large kitchen staff we employ is more than capable of handling the meal prep," he said with some amusement— again, more than he'd been able to muster since that fateful day two weeks ago.

"Right. Sorry," his friend replied with some chagrin. She shook her head and patted his forearms lightly, inches from where his arms angled as he was still holding her by the waist. "I'm being silly. I just... I worry," she admitted softly but without any contrition.

"I know," Zuko acknowledged with a nod. "And I appreciate that." Once they were past the rocky start to their friendship, concern was always the main characteristic he'd come to associate with Katara. She cared about people in general, but more than anything she cared for her friends and family. She cared _so much_. And for those people she cared about, she was always worrying about their wellbeing and doing everything she could to help them stay safe and achieve happiness. As bossy and pushy as she could be (and boy, she could be _really_ bossy and pushy), he knew very well that sometimes overbearing instinct came from a place of love.

Since the end of the war, Katara had taken it upon herself to be the one to make sure their ragtag little group kept in regular contact somehow. They were all busy and scattered all over the world and could only manage to see each other every few months if they were lucky, so Katara took it upon herself to be the one to write to everyone as often as possible and make sure the rest of the group was appraised on anything important going on in everybody's lives.

She corresponded with Suki often, or at least she had before her relationship with Sokka went south— Zuko knew the two girls still talked and were friendly with each other but Katara had admitted to him before that their exchanges were a little bit awkward since then. It was the same with Zuko— not that he'd been terribly close to Suki before, but he did notice a difference in the general tone of her letters since the two of them split up. Zuko did hear from Sokka by letter a few times over the years, but he was pretty sure that was on Katara's insistence, too; Sokka preferred to have his conversations in person, so they did a lot of catching up whenever he did manage to make his way to the Fire Nation or whenever they convened in URN meetings.

Katara wrote to Toph often, too— which Toph would usually reply to with a quick "Stop sending me letters, Sweetness. I can't read" note, scribbled by a different proxy each time. Zuko thought she was secretly pleased to be included in the missive circle, as she seemed to be aware of everything Katara told her in her letters even though she loved being contrary about it. Nowadays, when Katara had to write to Toph, she usually sent the missive directly to Aang, since they saw each other the most often out of all of them. Katara's communications with Aang had been similarly tense for a couple of years there after they broke up, but once the two of them adjusted to the split and reasserted their friendship, it was mostly smooth sailing from there on. Zuko corresponded with Aang more often than any of them except Katara, but their exchanges were often about work— problem-solving any and all issues that might've come up recently in the process of establishing the URN or even between the four elemental nations. Therefore Katara's input on whatever might be going on with Aang personally was something Zuko, as his friend, greatly appreciated.

Mostly, though, it had been Katara who he had maintained the most constant communications with, and thank Agni for that. It's not that he didn't have a cadre of advisors and relatives to lend him their guidance when it came to his Fire Lord duties, but there were things— personal things, intimate things— with which he couldn't go to his uncle or his mother because he didn't want to worry them. He and Katara had always understood each other very well— well, not _always_ always, but yeah— and she was sufficiently far removed from Fire Nation politics that he didn't feel he was putting an undue burden on her just by telling her these things. And she paid attention to his woes and gave the best counsel she could come up with, although sometimes he didn't follow it (because he was a giant knucklehead, as she was always glad to point out). He was always glad to have her as a soundboard, to have someone to talk to about all these things and have them take them as seriously as any Fire Nation business. He didn't know what he would've done without her letters and her periodic visits these past few years. He appreciated her presence in his life more than words could say.

And he did so more than ever right at that moment.

She looked slightly to the side and seemed to notice something: the unrolled scroll he'd left half-read on the table. "Are you _working_?" she asked with a small frown, in a tone that indicated she was simply aghast at the idea that he would be expected to think of work in these circumstances. "Why are you alone? Where are General Iroh and your mother?"

"It's nothing huge, just a little paperwork," he assured her dismissively, trying to emphasize the idea that the documents he'd been attempting to read weren't really a big deal. "I'm not really working. Uncle has taken over my duties for a while— he's probably around here somewhere, taking care of the preparations and logistics for the..." His voice faltered a little here. "For the funeral," he concluded quickly after clearing his throat.

Fire Nation royal funerals took a lot of preparation. He'd already explained to Katara, back when his mother's husband Noren had passed a few years ago, how the whole thing worked. Generally the body would be incinerated as soon as possible after death— usually that very day or the next one— and the ashes would be spread over hot coals. The coals would then burn for twenty-eight days in a shrine that family and friends were encouraged to visit so they could pray for their loved one's swift ascent to Agni. On the twenty-eighth day, the funeral ceremony would be held, where the family and guests would convene to remember the person and a local fire sage would bless the coals and the ashes would be collected for burial, signifying that the deceased had now transitioned to Agni.

This procedure was followed strictly for every Fire Nation citizen who passed away except the Fire Lord, mainly because the transition of power to his or her heir necessitated more expediency, and the Fire Lord was believed to be the representation of Agni on earth, anyway, so there was hardly a need for prayers for a quick ascension. In the case of Zuko's wife, however, it was a much larger event than your average Fire Nation funeral. Because she was the Fire Lady, it was expected that people from all over the Fire Nation would travel to the Capital to pay their respects and offer their prayers (her coals were already burning and open to the public at Coronation Plaza), and a large number of international guests would be invited to the funeral ceremony, with all the logistics that entailed. Zuko hoped his uncle wasn't having too much trouble organizing it all, but he had to admit he probably wouldn't have been in the right state of mind to handle all of it himself, given that he could barely get through reading one procurement form.

"And my mother was sitting here with me before you arrived," he continued, "but she went to get me some tea to help with my headache." He rolled his eyes a bit. "If there's one thing Uncle and my mother agree on, it's the medicinal properties of tea."

Katara smiled at him a bit tearily "And their love for you," she pointed out, and he nodded his agreement. He was really glad to have the both of them by his side in this difficult time. Uncle Iroh had not even thought twice about extending his stay in Royal Caldera City when Zuko's wife... took a turn for the worse; he just knew that Zuko would be needing all the support he could get and was more than happy to offer it. And while his mother usually split her time between her three children— she would spend a few weeks with Kiyi, who had recently gotten married to the governor of one of the eastern islands, then stay for a while at the private island where Azula had been transferred a few years back to be cared for by mental-health professionals, before returning to Royal Caldera City with Zuko— she had spent the last couple of months at the royal palace and insisted that she would remain there for as long as Zuko needed her.

It was a thought that would never have occurred to him fifteen years ago, but he was really glad he had a family to support him through this difficult time. And now Katara was here, too, and for the first time in weeks he was beginning to feel like he was standing on solid ground again.

She lifted her hands to his head again, this time resting the tips of her fingers against his temples. "You want me to heal that for you?" she asked, referring to the headache he'd briefly mentioned before.

Zuko shook his head as he looked down at her softly. "I'm okay. It's faded by now." It wasn't a lie; his headache had disappeared pretty much the second she walked through his door, actually. "Did you just arrive?" he asked, realizing that he hadn't even inquired as to how her travel from the South Pole had gone.

She nodded. "Yeah, our ship docked at the harbor about an hour ago and I made my way here as fast as I could," she explained. "Sokka wanted to be here, too, but he's got that progress meeting at the URN Capital next week that he can't miss." Zuko nodded, understanding. He'd been slated to be present at the URN progress meeting, too (since he was one of the originators of the idea of the United Republic of Nations, he had decided not to name a representative as most of the other nations had done and instead be directly involved in the process himself), but given the circumstances, no one would expect him to show up. Since Iroh was busy with funeral preparations and general Fire Nation goings-on, Zuko figured the responsibility would fall on Mai, as she was the Fire Nation ambassador to the Earth Kingdom, and therefore the closest high-level Fire Nation dignitary.

"He did ask me to tell you," Katara continued, "that he and Aang and Toph will be on a ship the minute the meeting is over and they'll definitely be here for the funeral." She emphasized the point with a sharp nod of her head. Zuko was grateful for that; his friends were like family, and he would be comforted by their presence and support as well.

She was looking up at him with what seemed to him like a hopeful expression, and he tried to transmit through his own that he was glad to have her with him, but it must've not come across right because after a second or two her expression fell and he could see tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

He was about to ask if he'd said something wrong when she abruptly let out a sob. "I'm so sorry, Zuko," she said, her voice catching in her throat halfway through the sentence as the tears started to fall. She threw herself into his arms again, crying into his shoulder. Zuko hugged her tightly again. It was a little ironic that he was the one doing the comforting now, but he hated seeing women cry. He hated seeing _her_ cry.

"Thanks," he said a little feebly, thinking she was giving him her condolences for his wife's passing. Everyone he came across over the past two weeks had done that, and thanking them had become almost reflex for Zuko.

He realized that understanding was wrong when she shook her head emphatically. "No, no," she said, pulling back a little so she could wipe the tears off her cheeks. Then she looked at him again, a little bit hesitantly. "I mean I'm sorry about... about Rin."

Zuko frowned at her, a little confused. Wasn't that the same thing? But she continued speaking, dodging her gaze a little as if she was worried about his reaction to her words. "She'd had such a complicated time of it... and I wasn't here. Maybe if I had been here, I could've..."

"Hey, hey," he piped up, now his turn to cradle her face in his hands. It unsettled him that _she_, of all people, felt guilty about his wife's passing. "Don't say that. We knew this could happen from the very beginning. Even if you had been here, there was nothing you could've done." And he meant that. Katara had already done more than would be expected of her; she'd visited way more often than she usually did over the past few months and every time she was in Royal Caldera she would make it a point to examine Rin, heal any aches and pains she could find to ease her burden, and offer any medical expertise she could to help his wife prepare as much as humanly possible for the difficulties that were coming her way. Zuko was infinitely grateful for her aid and did not for one second blame her for what happened to Rin.

Himself, on the other hand...

She didn't look entirely convinced, but she nodded either way, giving him a tremulous little smile. She took a deep breath as if to settle her sobs, and asked, a little warily, "And... the baby?"

Zuko's heart stuttered through a couple of beats as it always did when he was reminded of the little person he and Rin had created. "She's... she's fine," he responded in a shaky tone. Suddenly, his hands were trembling. "Probably with her wet nurse right now."

Katara's smile immediately widened, a hint of brightness coming back into her expression. "A girl?" she asked, and Zuko confirmed it. "I can't wait to meet her," she added, hope infusing her tone again. She grabbed his hands where they were still holding the sides of her face and held them tightly in her own. "Zuko... you're a dad now," she said, full of wonder.

He knew that. He knew that, and yet... it still didn't feel real, somehow. "Yeah," he all but croaked through the knot that had suddenly formed in his throat. He was already responsible for the well-being of an entire nation, but for some reason that didn't feel half as scary as being responsible for the well-being of one tiny human being. "I don't... I don't really know how to feel..." he admitted, a little hesitantly. He wouldn't have confessed this to any other person, but this was Katara. She'd dealt with him at his worst and still somehow managed to see the best in him.

"That's okay," she assured him, offering him another supportive smile. "There's no right way to feel when something like this happens. But we'll always be here for you, Zuko," she added as she squeezed his hands comfortingly. "I'll always be here for you."

Then she threw her arms around his neck again, squeezing him as tightly as he could. His own arms wrapped almost automatically around the curve of her waist once again, holding onto her like a lifeline. He buried his face against the curls of her hair in the hollow where her neck met her shoulder and breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent. She smelled like open skies and the sea, and he found that incredibly comforting.

They stayed like that for some time, just holding each other up and drawing comfort from the other's presence. Zuko wasn't sure at which point of their friendship exactly it had become a commonplace thing for them to hug this way, to so easily accept and even reach out for the other's touch in times of distress, but right then and there he couldn't imagine it any other way. He needed this, and for once he wasn't going to question his motivations.

Many an onlooker might, however, or so Zuko realized when he heard someone clear their throat and both he and Katara sprung away from each other like they'd been bitten by two-headed rat vipers. "Mom!" Zuko exclaimed when he noticed his mother's presence at the door, holding a plate and a cup full of steaming liquid in her hands. He'd completely forgotten his mother was going to be bringing him tea soon. He hadn't even heard the door open.

"Lady Ursa," Katara said in a cheery tone, although Zuko could tell she was also a little bit winded from the sudden fright. "It's been so long since I last saw you."

His mother gave both of them a warm smile and walked toward them to leave the tea on Zuko's desk, right beside the scroll he'd now been ignoring for entirely too long. "Katara, dear," she said in the usual motherly tone she used with all of her children. She moved forward to give the younger woman a hug, which Katara eagerly returned. "I'm so glad you're here."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," Katara assured her, and her certainty was a balm on Zuko's heart. He hated inconveniencing other people with his problems, but Katara _wanted_ to be here. His friends _wanted_ to be here for him. Just that small knowledge felt like it uplifted his soul in these trying times.

"Good, good," his mother said, patting Katara's shoulders affectionately. "Did you just arrive?" she asked, unknowingly echoing Zuko's earlier inquiry. "You must be really tired from such a long trip. Zuko, are her rooms ready?" she added as she turned to her son.

"I don't think so," Zuko admitted. It's not like he had any way to know; he hadn't even had the opportunity to ask the guard when Katara arrived.

"Um, that's my fault, probably," Katara interjected sheepishly. "I barged in here without letting any of the staff know that I'm staying. I don't even know where they took my things," she added with a little bit of an "oops" expression. "And then we got a little... distracted." She signaled at the space between her and Zuko off-handedly. "Zuko was just telling me about your precious new granddaughter," she pointed out, giving his mom an excited smile. Zuko's stomach churned.

"He was?" his mother asked. Zuko could hear the undertone of surprise in her voice and felt her eyes dart in his direction. He dodged her gaze. "She is indeed the most precious thing you will ever see," his mother continued speaking in a loving tone, seemingly untroubled by his reaction, although Zuko knew she had noticed it. "I stopped by the nursery on my way to the kitchen. She's asleep now, but perhaps you can meet her tomorrow?"

"I'd love that," Katara replied enthusiastically.

His mother smiled at her and nodded in agreement. "Well, why don't we just take you to your rooms, then, so you can rest?"

Zuko begged out, pointing out that he still had work to get to. His mother gave him a knowing look, as she was well aware that he only had one single piece of paperwork that he'd been trying to read for the last half hour, but otherwise said nothing. "You two go," he insisted. "I'll see you at dinner."

The women agreed. "Come on, dear," his mother told Katara, delicately grabbing hold of her arm. "I'll walk you to your rooms. You can tell me all about how the Southern Water Tribe is coming along while we make our way there."

"And you can tell me how Azula's been doing," Katara replied, linking arms with the older woman. Her interest on Azula's condition was something Zuko had always been grateful for; it made him feel like he and his family were not the only ones holding onto a glimmer of hope that she might get better someday. Katara couldn't cure her with her waterbending healing— nor could any medicinal concoction simply restore her mental health— but the therapy she was receiving at the private facilities did seem the most promising and Katara was always enquiring about her progress, both out of professional curiosity and out of personal empathy. She'd been there with him that day, the day he'd first witnessed his sister's mind break. She knew more than anyone what a tragedy it was.

They walked arm in arm toward the door like grade-school bosom buddies and Zuko watched them go, wondering at the contrasting shades of their clothing as they made their way out. Walking out last, Katara gave him one last encouraging smile and a small wave. He returned the wave as the door closed between them. With a sigh, he turned back toward the table and tried to get his mind focused back on procurement forms.

It didn't work. All he could think about was her.

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**Author's notes!—**

Oooohhh, which "her" is he thinking about, I wonder? ;)

Title and description come from a quote about love that is relatively well-known in my corner of the world: _"Neither is love a cage, nor is freedom being alone. Love is the freedom of flying accompanied. It is letting be without possessing."_ The internet loves attributing this quote to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, though I have my doubts about that. Either way, I decided to go with it as I think it fits the theme of this story fairly well; if anyone out there knows where this come originally came from, please do let me know so I can credit the author properly.

As you can probably figure out from this chapter, this story starts off some 15 years after the AtLA ending, but there is some divergence after that. Certain things will remain faithful to LoK canon (such as the existence of Izumi because I love her and I _adore_ Iroh II), but others won't. The main point of divergence is the fact that in this story, Aang and Katara broke up after a few years of dating (sorry, Tenzin!). As it stands, Zuko is about 32, Katara nearly 30. You can do the math on the other characters' ages, I'm sure. Oh, and in case you're wondering, yes, the URN Capital site is meant to be the future Republic City— it's just still under construction at this point in time.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this yet. Sometimes I just get an idea stuck in my head and it won't let go until I _write_ it, and this is pretty much how this chapter came about. But I'm still iffy on how to proceed from here, so you might be better off not _expecting_ updates and then being pleasantly surprised when an update eventually happens? Also I tend to get a bit obsessive about timelines— in fact, this story actually came about when I was mucking about the AtLA wiki and realized that certain characters seem to have waited a _really long time_ (by period standards) to have children, not to mention the fact that Izumi must be on the older end of the second generation (maybe around Kya's age? Ish?) despite the fact that she looks younger than all the rest of 'em (those Fire Nation genes, I tell you!). I don't know, it made me curious and eager to fill in the blanks there. Hence this story. So even though I fell off at some point of season two of LoK, I'm going to try to stick to the canon timeline as much as my initial premise allows; if you catch anything that needs to be corrected, please do let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Neither is Love a Cage****,** _Chapter 2_. PG-13 (possibly M later on), drama/romance/angst, Zuko/Katara + Aang/Toph, post-finale but diverges before LoK canon.  
_Love is the freedom of flying accompanied. It is letting be without possessing._

**Note****:** Rated PG-13 for now— might go up to M in the future, who knows. Will include some Sokka/Suki if I can manage to fit them in. Post-finale but canon divergent later on. Story starts some fifteen years after the ending of AtLA, and while some things from LoK will remain, some others will not. See author's note at the end of chapter 1 for more details.

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_[Future site of the URN Capital City in Yue Bay, United Republic of Nations - 115 AG]_

"You yourself must watch yourself," Aang read from the scroll as the words reverberated against the walls of the large, mostly empty room he and the rest of the local Air Acolytes were in. Back when he was a child, the elder monks would do the morning meditation recitations from memory, but Aang hadn't learned them by heart yet. Still, he was happy when the old scroll with the daily recitations was found in the ruins of one of the old Air Temples a few years back; at least he could read them while the others meditated. It made him feel a little closer to what the Air Nation used to be.

"You yourself must examine yourself," he continued as he looked at the tranquil faces of his people— his _new_ people, at least. They might not be airbenders, but they were every bit as dedicated to spirituality as the old monks had been. They truly did believe in the Air Nomad way of life and would give their all to restore it. "And so, self-guarded and mindful," he continued, "O monk, you will live in happiness."

There was silence for a moment as he finished, almost like everybody had been holding their breath and only released it once the recitation was over. He smiled as he looked at some of the younger members in the back; he was pretty sure at least one of them had fallen asleep. He didn't mind. He used to be just like that when he was a kid.

The murmur of a multitude of voices started up again as everyone began opening their eyes and standing up now that morning meditation was over. Aang got a few waves and a few "Avatar Aang, look!" from the back as the congregation started to mobilize out the door, the gaggle of children racing each other as a slower-moving crowd of adults chastised them as necessary.

Among the latter group he caught the face of someone he'd been thinking to talk to before meditation started, and he found himself blurting out a call without even intending it. "Yee-Li!" As soon as the name was out of his mouth, he regretted it. What had he been thinking? Sure, he'd been pondering on whether or not to bring this up with someone, and Yee-Li seemed like a good candidate, but truth be told, Aang had no idea what he was even going to say.

The brown-haired woman split from the crowd and approached him, seemingly unaware of his internal panic. "Yes, Avatar Aang?" she asked with a smile. Yee-Li had been one of the original Air Acolytes, back when it was still the "Avatar Aang Fan Club" in Ba Sing Se. As she was around his age, over the years she'd become one of Aang's most trusted assistants, moving to the Yue Bay site early on in the URN process and taking a large load of the work of organizing the Air Acolyte community while Aang was tied up with higher-level international negotiations. She had really been a lifesaver in more ways than one, and she'd been the first woman who came to mind when he was thinking of doing this earlier in the morning.

Of course, now that she was in front of him, he was floundering. "Um, well..." Spirits, how exactly was one supposed to even ask something like this? At least most of the other acolytes had shuffled out of the room already and weren't there to witness his obvious discomfort. "See... uh... you know how I have to, erm, repopulate the Air Nomads?"

"Of course," Yee-Li replied quickly. Aang wasn't really sure if he had ever stated that particular goal of his in a public setting, but it seemed like a foregone conclusion that many people had come to set for him on their own. The Air Acolytes, especially, knew about his desire to restore his race, as they were helping him do it from the cultural side of things, so it was no surprise that Yee-Li took it as a given.

"Yes, well." Aang cleared his throat awkwardly. "I've just been thinking lately that, you know, if I want to actually achieve that goal I kinda have to... I guess... start seeing women at some point, and... Not— not that I think of women as baby-making machines or anything," he rushed to add in a desperate attempt to clarify his word vomit, "but, like, if I ever want to have children it's kind of necessary, if you know what I mean—"

"Oh," Yee-Li exclaimed with wide eyes, as if suddenly understanding what Aang was trying to say underneath all the nervous babbling. "It would be my honor to help you bring more airbenders into the world, Avatar Aang," she declared with a smile that looked genuine and unconcerned. "I'm available to have sexual relations with you whenever you'd prefer."

The breath Aang was just taking in lodged itself in the center of his throat like a rock at her blunt way of putting it. "Um," he started in the middle of the ensuing coughing fit, "I was actually thinking maybe going on a few dates before, erm...?"

"Oh, there's no need for that," Yee-Li waved him off with an amused scoff, almost like he'd said something silly. "Restoring the Air Nomads is the most honorable goal. The world won't be in balance again until all four nations coexist, and it's already been a hundred and fifteen years since that was last true. There's no point to wasting any more time," she concluded with a shrug. She was still smiling at him like she had just explained something absolutely obvious.

Aang wouldn't admit it out loud, but his brain broke a little at all of that. How was it that she managed to sound more like the Avatar than _he_ did? As uncomfortable as this whole situation was, he had to admire her dedication to the cause. "So you, uh, don't... mind, then?" he asked, his words dripping with hesitation. She seemed to be completely clear as to what was happening, but _he_ had no freaking clue what he was doing.

"Not at all," she replied without a second of doubt. "Would you like to start tonight?" she suggested helpfully.

The gears inside Aang's head were still turning as she asked, trying to just _understand_ how he'd even gotten to this point, let alone the question she'd just posed to him. "Um, sure?" he said, more in the tone of a question than a firm answer, and the reply was almost a reflex because he was so overwhelmed by this whole conversation to begin with.

"Great!" Yee-Li said in a chipper tone, her smile beaming with enthusiasm. "I'll stop by your chambers after dinner, then, if that's okay with you." Barely two seconds after declaring this she started walking toward the door like nothing significant had happened, animatedly calling out to some of her friends who had gone on ahead of her earlier.

"Okay...?" Aang mumbled to himself as he stood there in shock, feeling very much like he assumed someone would feel if they were run over by a railroad. Of all the reactions he'd ever expected, that was definitely _not_ one of them.

_What... what just happened?_

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_[Royal Caldera City, Fire Nation]_

It was easy to forget sometimes that the city outside the palace walls was probably a flurry of activity in preparation for the upcoming funeral, Katara thought. Usually when she visited the Fire Nation Capital, she liked to take some time to go into town and look around, interact with the locals; that had always been her favorite part of traveling. This wasn't a normal visit, however. She tried to stay close to Zuko, as her intention when she set sail for the Fire Nation was to support him as much as she could, and as it wasn't a good idea for him to be out in public until the day of the funeral, she was stuck inside the palace alongside him.

Katara was trying her best to keep him from thinking too much about what happened and about the funeral. She knew it was impossible for him to put it completely out of his mind, but she didn't want him to fall too deep into his grief— she knew Zuko had a special talent for wallowing in despair that he hadn't quite grown out of even by the time he aged past his teens— so she resolved to keep him as active as possible.

They'd spent a lot of time sparring together or watching each other train, trying to point out any weaknesses in the other's form that they could possibly improve on. One of the things that was unique to their friendship was the fact that they were very well acquainted with each other's fighting styles in both an adversarial and a friendly manner on top of bending opposite elements, so they were in an unmatched position to help each other when it came to this. The idea came up often in their letters and whenever they managed to be in the same place at the same time, but they were always so busy with something or other that it was always hard to actually take the time to work on their bending together. Now that Zuko was supposed to be _not working_ and Katara didn't have a whole tribe to babysit, it seemed like the perfect time to try this. She was thinking that maybe they could take the chance to adapt some of each other's moves; General Iroh was always going on about how the next great frontier of bending was imitating other bending styles.

It's not like they were practicing all the time, of course. Sometimes they'd just hang out in Zuko's sitting room, drinking fire wine while they chatted about the places they'd traveled to or reminisced about their younger years. Sometimes they'd spend the afternoon in the library, Zuko recommending a particular book to her before picking one of his own and settling down on the lounge area to read in comfortable silence. Sometimes the whole morning went by with the two of them ensconced in Zuko's office discussing politics and policy for both their nations, giving each other advice and venting about their various obstacles and frustrations to the point that sometimes they forgot about lunch until a servant knocked on the door to ask if they would like their food to be reheated.

Not that having mostly only Zuko for company was a problem, of course. She loved Zuko and quite enjoyed spending time with him; in fact, it was rather refreshing to be able to hang out with an old friend without needing to worry about their usual responsibilities or deal with all the shenanigans that seemed to follow Team Avatar around on a constant basis. But she did have to admit that it was a little quieter than she was used to, almost like they were trapped in their own little bubble where they were completely isolated from the outside world.

The only times she was actually reminded that life still went on outside the palace was whenever she saw General Iroh, and he was so busy that the only time she saw him most days was during breakfast. But Katara appreciated what little time she got with him either way; she adored the affable old man— it was hard not to.

"We've already seen large numbers of people visit Coronation Plaza to pay their respects, many even traveling from the provinces," Iroh was explaining how the funeral rites were going while he calmly sipped his ginger tea like it was the secret that would get him through the day. "There's a growing pile of flowers and cards at the foot of the shrine. It's marvelous to see." He put his cup down and it clacked lightly against the porcelain of the saucer plate sitting in front of him on the table. "The Fire Lady was very well-loved."

"She was," Katara agreed, pausing for a second on her breakfast as she contemplated his words. She thought back to all the times she'd interacted with Rin through their acquaintance; they hadn't exactly been _close_, but they'd always gotten along well. Rin was a sweet woman, if a little shy, and she'd always been more than accommodating whenever Katara or the rest of Team Avatar visited the Fire Nation Capital. They'd gotten to interact a lot over the past few months, since Katara had visited several times in order to check on the progress of her pregnancy. Rin had even been to the South Pole once, a few years ago. Katara's students had taken her penguin sledding. She didn't think she'd ever heard the Fire Lady laugh as much as she did that day.

"Some of our foreign guests are starting to arrive, too," Iroh continued after taking another sip of his tea. "That is, I presume, the reason why Ursa is not having breakfast with us this morning." That made sense to Katara. Usually Zuko's mother shared the morning meal with them as well, but she was absent today. Welcoming guests of the crown and organizing their accommodation during their visit was usually a task handled by the Fire Lady, but given the circumstances, it had been up to Lady Ursa to take charge on that front. No wonder Katara hadn't seen her in a while.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Katara asked, feeling a little bad that everybody was so busy while she was doing nothing but lounge around the palace with Zuko. Surely there was something she could do...

Iroh, however, simply shook his head with a gentle smile. "Thank you, my dear, but that's not necessary," he said while stretching out a hand to pat her own where it rested on the dining table. "You traveled all the way here to support Zuko, and I think that's where your time is better spent." He pulled back, and his smile turned wistful. "How is he doing, truly? I haven't been able to spend much time with him, what with all the work, and I worry."

Katara sighed as she picked at the pieces of fruit left on her plate with her chopsticks. "He's..." She wasn't sure how to put it. "Okay" seemed like an outright lie, but he wasn't doing terribly, either. "...about as well as can be expected, I guess," was what she settled on. "I've been trying to keep him occupied, but there's only so many things to do while staying inside the palace grounds."

She bit her lower lip lightly before hesitantly raising her gaze from her plate up to Iroh, unsure of how to bring up what she wanted to say next. "Lady Ursa mentioned that... Zuko hasn't been to see the baby since... well. Since she was born," she stated carefully. She didn't want to seem like she was accusing Zuko of something; she wasn't. She was just worried. She'd been to see the baby a few times over the week she'd been here, but usually kept her visits short; babies that young did little more than sleep.

"Ah. That's right," Iroh said, his expression sobering up as he picked up the teakettle in front of him to refill his cup. "Ursa and I did not want to push the issue at first, figuring that he was probably still in shock at the abrupt passing of his wife and thinking that he needed some time to... adjust to his new circumstances." His lips pursed for a moment. "But now that it's been three weeks, I must admit his continued avoidance has become..." He sighed. "...concerning."

Katara absorbed that sadly. "Why do you think he's acting like this?" she asked, curious. She wondered about it every time she was alone with Zuko— which was, of course, most of the time this past week— but she had no idea how to bring it up with him for real. Maybe if Iroh had some insight on it, she could avoid touching a nerve with Zuko and upsetting him more than he already was.

"Knowing Zuko, there could be many reasons," Iroh posited, picking up his now-refilled teacup and taking a sip of the steaming liquid. It was hot enough that Katara might've instinctively blown on it to cool it had it been her own cup, but Iroh being a firebender and all, she figured the extreme temperature didn't bother him that much. "I have tried to ask him a few times, but I'm afraid he hasn't been very forthcoming. With my nephew, oftentimes it takes a while to get him to talk freely about the ailments he's holding in his heart." He lifted his gaze from his cup to Katara. "Although now that you're here, perhaps you'd have better luck than we have, Master Katara."

Katara couldn't help but cringe. "That's what Lady Ursa suggested, as well," she admitted somewhat hesitantly. "And I want to help, I really do, but... I'm not sure I'm the right person to talk to him about this. I mean, I've never even been married, and I don't have children... I wouldn't even know where to begin..."

Iroh gave her a reassuring smile. "On the contrary, young master; I think you're probably the best person to get him to talk about this for once." He took another sip of his tea, seeming to pointedly ignore the curious look Katara was now giving him.

"Why do you say that?" she asked. Iroh and Lady Ursa were the closest people to Zuko in the whole wide world, the people he trusted the most. If they couldn't get him to open up, Katara didn't see how she would have an easier time of it.

Iroh chuckled, almost like he was amused by her confusion. "Ah, if you could see how excited he gets every time he gets a letter from you," he revealed with a glint of mischief in his eyes that made Katara wonder if he really should be telling her this. "It's like something in him just lights up from the inside. Even if we're in the middle of a meeting when he gets the news that he has correspondence from the South Pole, once the meeting is over he'll walk right out to go read your missive."

He shook his head as if immersed in the joyful memory. "And then the next time I see him, all he will talk about is what is happening with you, and what new waterbending move you've developed recently, and what hijinks your students have gotten into, and how well the Southern Water Tribe is progressing..." He trailed off, and for some reason Katara felt herself flushing. It was nothing he actually said that caught her off guard, but there was something in his tone, maybe... that made her feel like he was _implying_ something.

If he was, though, he never actually stated it out loud. "He really does trust you, Katara," he said instead. "He really appreciates your advice. He knows when you give him your opinion on something, it's because you truly believe it's the right thing to do, and not just because he's the Fire Lord or because you're worried about him." That last point made... a lot of sense, really, when Katara thought about it, and to a large extent answered the question she had wondered about earlier. Whereas Zuko's relatives would always see things through the lens of protecting him, she'd never held back on telling him what she really thought, even back when that meant nothing but mistrust and suspicion.

And that candor wasn't about to change now. She really needed to put her discomfort aside and talk to Zuko. His daughter needed him, and he was clearly hurting. Just avoiding any mention of Rin and the baby wasn't enough; if Katara could help heal that hurt in any way, she had to try. "I'll do my best," she conceded to Iroh, who nodded at her, satisfied.

"I'm glad to hear that," Iroh acknowledged with a nod. He took another sip of his tea as Katara finally lifted a piece of fruit to her mouth, so there was a pause in the conversation before Iroh spoke again. "You know, it's a tradition in the Fire Nation that the father is the one to name the child," he said. Once again he sounded like he was _implying_ something— except this time he actually pretty much stated it explicitly: "I'm just saying, if you're going to bring it up with my nephew, it should probably be soon. It's getting a little unwieldy, having to call the little lady 'Princess' all the time."

Katara let out a breath in a huff. "No pressure," she muttered before taking a bite of her breakfast. Iroh laughed at her pout, his shoulders shaking in mirth.

General Iroh inquired about her sparring sessions with Zuko and whether they were, indeed, helping Katara develop new waterbending moves based on Zuko's firebending forms. They were animatedly discussing this when the Fire Lord himself made his appearance in the dining room, fresh out of his morning meditation. "Good morning, Uncle," he said. "Katara," he added, giving her a small nod of acknowledgment as he sat down at the head of the table just before a harried-looking servant could reach him to pull the chair out for him. "It's okay, Ryo," he told the servant with some amusement at the man's deeper-than-usual bow. "I'm perfectly capable of seating myself. If I'm taking some time off, I think you can afford to take it easy for a bit, too."

Katara chuckled at the man's effusiveness as he thanked his Lord for his magnanimity. He was bent over so far down, it was a miracle the tip of his nose wasn't mopping the floor. "They really like sticking to their protocols, don't they?" she asked with a grin. She'd already been down that road with her handmaid several times over the past week, trying to convince her that she didn't need any help getting dressed. It's not like the Fire Nation wardrobe Zuko had generously provided for her so she wouldn't boil in her furs was any more complicated than the layers and layers of cold-resistant clothing she wore at home.

"The palace staff endeavor most fervently to uphold these gloried traditions that have been in place for thousands of years," Iroh commented, although there was an undertone of amusement beneath his words as well.

"I've been trying to break them out of this for fifteen years," Zuko added in a deadpan tone as two more servants popped seemingly out of nowhere and approached him from each side to deposit his breakfast plate and a clean teacup in front of him. He didn't even flinch. "Somehow, I don't think it's working."

His expression was so wry that it sent Katara into a giggling fit. Zuko smiled before picking up his chopsticks and splitting them. As he did so, Katara saw out of the corner of her eye that General Iroh had put down his now-empty cup and was smiling contentedly at the two of them.

"Well, now that my nephew is here to keep you company, Katara," Iroh said with a nod in her direction that once again made her feel like he was _implying_ something, "I think I shall take my leave. There is some urgent correspondence I must get to before my first scheduled meeting of the day."

Zuko frowned at that. "Urgent correspondence?" he asked, staring at the older man as he pushed his chair back and stood up, also just before a servant could assist him with it. "What's so urgent about it? Is everything okay?"

"Oh, just the Earth Kingdom asking if we'd be offended if they sent a representative for the funeral rather than having King Kuei himself come." Iroh waved his hand as if to indicate that it wasn't a big deal. "It's not serious, just time sensitive."

It was Katara's turn to frown. "Why are they asking you who should attend? Shouldn't that be their decision?" she asked, confused. She wasn't involved in diplomacy in her tribe, but she had never heard from her father or Sokka about the Earth Kingdom being so wishy-washy about those things. Of course, then again, it's not like they welcomed foreign guests all that often at the South Pole...

Zuko had obviously had to deal with this before, Katara figured, if the frustrated groan he let out was any indication. "It's not about who to send. It's more about _what_ they can bring with them," he let out with a roll of his eyes, as if that was enough to completely clarify everything. "Uncle, do you want me to handle the response? I don't mind taking care of it myself."

Once again Iroh waved his hand, dismissing the offer. "There's no need, my nephew," he assured the younger man. "It's just one letter, it will take but a few minutes. I'm sure there are _much_ better things you could be doing with your time." He turned to look at Katara as he said this last sentence; in any other circumstance the words would've sounded suggestive, but the general gave her a nod that reminded her he was talking about their earlier conversation about possibly convincing Zuko to stop avoiding his daughter. Zuko remained none the wiser to any of it. "I shall take my leave now. Nephew. Katara," he said, giving each of them a nod, respectively, as he stood up.

"The bear is most definitely _not_ invited!" Zuko hollered at his uncle's retreating back, and it was only then that Katara understood what the sticking point _really_ was: King Kuei wanted to bring his pet bear Bosco (how that creature was still kicking around with how spoiled and lazy it was, Katara had no idea), and wouldn't come if Bosco couldn't come, leading the Earth Kingdom diplomats to go into damage-control mode. She cringed; she didn't envy her friends having to maintain stable political relations with these crazies. And then she started laughing because... come on, it was ridiculous.

Zuko gave her a halfhearted glare. "It's not funny."

"It's a little funny," she wheezed out in between snorts, she was laughing so hard.

Zuko rolled his eyes but otherwise did not attempt to interrupt her mirth, starting instead to eat his breakfast. It was only when her laughter began to die down that he spoke. "Uncle doesn't want me to handle the bear thing because he knows I wouldn't be able to rein in my temper."

"'Uncle' doesn't want you to handle the bear thing because you're supposed to be _on leave_," she clarified, poking his arm with her pointer finger as if emphasizing those last two words. "Boy, you're really bad at staying away from work, aren't you? You've finally got some vacation time but you just can't stay away."

He cringed, and she _heard_ what she'd just said and felt immediately contrite. His wife had just died, and she had just referred to his leave period as a _vacation_? "I'm so sorry," she hurried to apologize. "I didn't mean to imply that this time off is meant to be _fun_ for you, I just meant—"

"It's okay, Katara," Zuko interrupted her ramble before she could get too into it. He genuinely did not seem upset. "I know what you meant. And you're pretty much right, anyway," he conceded with something of a shrug. "It's hard for me not to want to... supervise everything, I guess. Just to make sure nothing goes wrong. I've been called a control freak once or twice, you know," he added with a chuckle.

Feeling relieved that she hadn't unwittingly offended him, she chimed in teasingly. "I hope you fired whoever it was that called you that," she retorted, sharing in his amusement.

He smirked. "Can't fire the representative of the Southern Water Tribe to the United Republic of Nations Council, I'm afraid," he revealed, and Katara had to bite back a groan. Having been on the receiving end of the exact same accusations from Sokka for the majority of her life, she knew what that was like. "I'm trying not to think so much about work, though, I really am," he insisted. "It just... I guess it seems way easier to think about literally anything else rather than about... about Rin," he admitted, his tone softening as he reached the end of the sentence.

She felt a pang in her heart for him again, as she did every time she was reminded of his loss; an instinctive need to reach out and try to make him feel better. At the same time, though, she couldn't help but think _I know of a little someone who would keep you plenty occupied if I could just find a way to convince you to go see her_. She bit her lip, pondering how to go about it.

Unfortunately for her, this time Zuko did notice that something was going on with her— probably because she was staring— and forced her hand on it. "What?" he asked, seeming curious.

She looked at him, wracking her brain for something to say that was sensible to his situation, but coming up blank. So in the end, since they'd just been talking about Sokka and all, she decided to go with a strategy that was tried and true on her brother: When in doubt, trick 'em.

She pushed herself to her feet, her chair loudly scraping against the floor as it moved back from her momentum, and extended a hand to him. "Come with me," she demanded in a determined tone.

Zuko looked from her face to her extended hand, and then back to her face. "...Where, exactly?" he asked really slowly, obviously dubious about whatever plan she was concocting.

"You'll see," she said with the brightest, most innocent smile she could muster under his inquisitive gaze. When he remained dubious, she let out a huff. "_Zuko_," she insisted, all of her natural bossiness seeping into that one word that was his name, "don't you trust me?"

To his credit, there was no hesitation when he answered. "Yes," he said straight away, except that was immediately followed by an equally direct, "but I literally just started breakfast."

"Well, this is going to be _better_ than breakfast," she declared enthusiastically. "Come on." She stopped waiting for him to take her hand and instead grabbed his arm, pulling him up and practically dragging him out of the room without any further explanation. He didn't complain as much as someone else might have, basically resigned to whatever fate she had planned for him at this point.

She led him through the hallways with relative ease. She knew the route from the dining room to the nursery fairly well after a week of visiting often, but of course, this was _Zuko's_ palace, so it didn't take him long to put two and two together. "Wait," he said, and she felt him stumble a little on his steps behind her. "Are we going to the— Katara, will you just stop— I can't—"

"Can't take five minutes to go see your own daughter?" Katara stopped abruptly, leading Zuko to almost run into her, but he caught himself on time. Letting go of his hand, she turned around and fixed a glare on him, hands on her hips.

Pinned down by her stare as he was, all he could do was sigh. "Uncle told you," he stated, more than asked.

"No, your mother did," she corrected, crossing her arms over her chest. At least he had the decency to look abashed. "They're worried," she continued. "Understandably so. It's been three weeks." She shook her head. "Zuko, what's going on?"

He ran both his hands over his face in a show of frustration. He started to walk, and for a second Katara feared he was just going to walk off and leave her standing there with half her argument unsaid, but he just started pacing in place. "I just—" He shook his head. "I don't think I can do this."

She frowned, immediately feeling defensive on his behalf. "What are you talking about?" she asked in an incredulous tone. "Obviously it's not going to be easy, but you're the most determined person I know. You'll figure it out, I know you will. Unless..." A concerning thought crossed her mind. "Unless you blame your daughter for what happened to Rin? Zuko, please tell me that's not it," she all but begged.

Zuko's pacing halted abruptly and he turned to her with an expression that was nothing short of offended. "Of course not!" he exclaimed, seemingly incredulous that she would even ask such a thing. "I could never. She's a baby, for spirits' sake, none of this could ever be her fault! How could you think so lowly of me?"

"I don't! I'm sorry," Katara hurried to assure him. She knew he was sensitive about his integrity, and she didn't mean to insult him on top of everything that was already plaguing his mind. But she had to ask, just to rule it out. "I just don't understand why you're acting like you're scared of your own daughter. It's like you said: she's just a baby; it's not like she's going to spit fire at you." She paused for a second, then amended, "Well, not yet, at least."

Zuko exhaled loudly, the action releasing some of the tension in his shoulders— but just lightly. "It's not like that," he replied in a lower tone this time. He snuck a look over his shoulder as if looking around for other people, and it was only then that Katara realized that maybe a palace hallway was probably not the best place to have this conversation. Oh, well. "I'm not afraid of her; I'm afraid _for_ her. I just—" He shook his head harshly. "I think it's better for her if I just... keep my distance."

Katara cocked her head to the side, looking at him for a moment before rolling her eyes. "Zuko, that is ridiculous—"

"It's not!" he interrupted her before she could launch into her argument. "I have no idea how to be a father—"

"Nobody does!" It was _her_ turn to interrupt. She might not be a mother herself, but she'd delivered dozens of babies back in Harbor City and not one of the first-time parents she'd helped had ever felt they were prepared to raise a child, yet they all pushed on and did the best they could. Why should Zuko be any different? Being nervous was normal; quitting on your child was not.

"I'm not just anybody," he retorted, and from anyone else the response would've sounded conceited, but from Zuko it only sounded tortured and miserable. "You know me, Katara. You know what my childhood was like. For years I was a mess. I still _feel_ like a walking mess half the time. What could I possibly have to offer her?"

Katara huffed, incredulous. "You're kidding, right? You're the _Fire Lord_—"

"Agni, I don't mean economically," he clarified. "I mean _emotionally_. I don't have the slightest clue what being a good father even _means_. I certainly couldn't see it in my family. Ozai thought less of me than he would of a glob of dog shit in the sole of his shoe, my mother disappeared on me for _years_, I couldn't even be any kind of role model to my younger sister, I've got an awful temper, and my being emotionally stunted has been a running joke in the Fire Nation and beyond since I was in my teens. I've made so many stupid mistakes in my life that I can't even begin to count them if I tried. What kind of example could I possibly set for a child?"

He had begun pacing again, and he was so focused on his pacing that Katara had to grab onto his arm to get him to stop and look at her. "Zuko," she said, lifting her hands to hold him in place by his shoulders. She made sure to meet his gaze head-on, so he would understand that she was being completely serious about this. "As one of your best friends, it's part of my job description to inform you when you're being an overdramatic idiot. So here it is: you're being an overdramatic idiot."

He frowned and opened his mouth to retort, but she continued speaking before he could. "Yes, your father was an evil asshole. Yes, your childhood was very, very far from ideal. Yes, for a long time you were misguided and had a hard time telling right from wrong. But you've grown since then. You've gone through so many terrible life experiences, but you've learned from them and come out stronger on the other side. You're one of the best people I know, one of the bravest people I know, one of the most honest and caring people I know. Don't sell yourself short. You can do this. I know it's scary, but what are you going to do, just avoid her for the next fifteen years or so? That's not sustainable, and you know it."

She squeezed his shoulders in an attempt at comfort. "Sure, you'll make mistakes, and that's okay. I'm not saying you're going to be the perfect parent— but no one is. You just have to try your best. And _because_ I know you so well, I know that you always, _always_ try your best. I'm not worried for a second."

She shook her head. "Besides, I think you're exaggerating a little bit. You've had some great parental role models. Wasn't General Iroh more of a father to you than Ozai ever was? He's always been there for you and supported you and guided you through every complicated matter. So there's your parental role model, right there. If doing the opposite of what Ozai would've done isn't enough of a guide, just do what General Iroh would've done. That's gotten you this far, hasn't it? And yes, your mother was missing for a long stretch of your adolescence, but she was there for you when you were a child, and she's here for you now that you're an adult. You know what a parent's love should be like, Zuko. You've felt it." His gaze lowered, and she knew he saw sense in her words.

"As for what you have to offer her... all she needs is for you to love her. That's all. She's already lost her mother; she's going to need her father more than anything, Zuko. I know that better than anyone." She had to blink to keep her humid eyes from overflowing. She heard his breath catch slightly at the reminder of her own loss. "Besides, underneath all these insecurities, you want to be in her life, don't you? You already love her," she guessed. Sure, his doubts were silly, but she could see they all stemmed from an entrenched desire for his daughter to have a better life than he ever did. Only someone who truly loved another could be that self-sacrificing.

"Yeah," he admitted quietly, but sincerely. His voice was husky, and she saw him swallow hard as if his throat was drier than usual. "I... I thought Rin would be here. That we would raise her together," he started, still not quite looking at her, but then he sighed and met her gaze again, looking disheartened. "How am I going to do this on my own, Katara?"

She shook her head emphatically, her grip falling from his shoulders to hold each of his hands in her own. "You don't have to," she assured him. "You have your uncle, and your mother, and you have all of us to help you, as well. You're not alone, Zuko." She smiled at him and felt him squeeze her hands a little tighter in response. She recognized it as a silent expression of his gratitude.

She had to let go of one of his hands to wipe away the tears that were threatening to fall, but the smile remained. "Let's go see your daughter, Zuko," she suggested in a buoyant tone. "I'll be there with you every step of the way." He simply gazed down at her for one heart-stopping second, but then he took a deep breath and nodded, letting her pull him the rest of the way toward the nursery. She could feel his hand trembling in her hold, but his steps never faltered.

When they arrived at their destination, Katara stepped to the side and let Zuko take things at his pace. It took him nearly a minute to pluck up the courage to knock on the door, but once he did, he let himself in, quickly letting the baby's governess know that they'd be spending some time with the princess and to please give them some privacy.

Katara walked in as the older woman was walking out, made her way to the crib and smiled down at the infant. "Hey there, little flame," she said in a bubbly tone, stretching out a hand to caress the girl's head, which was already covered by a shock of fuzzy dark hair. The baby squirmed and gurgled contentedly in response to her touch. "Oh, you're awake, aren't you? Good. I brought someone to meet you today," she added, reaching in to carefully pick the little bundle up.

Once the baby was resting securely in her arms, she turned the both of them toward Zuko, who was standing a few feet away with the most stupefied expression on his face, his feet flat on the ground like the soles of his shoes had been stuck to the wooden floors with glue. You'd think she was carrying a bomb rather than a newborn, but she figured that was par for the course when it came to first-time jitters. "Look, princess," she said in a stage whisper, looking down at the baby but pointing toward Zuko with a finger, "it's your daddy. You love your daddy, don't you, sweetheart?"

She crossed the space that separated them in just a few steps, presenting the child in her arms to her still (figuratively) frozen-solid father. "Fire Lord Zuko, meet your daughter," she said with a proud smile. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Zuko still looked shaken, but his gaze was fixated on the baby's chubby face like he would never be able to tear his eyes away from her. It warmed Katara's soul. "She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said in a breathless murmur, lifting a hand to the child's delicate brow. He didn't quite touch her before pulling back, however, almost like he thought he might accidentally break her.

Katara's heart clenched for him. "Do you want to hold her?" she offered.

Zuko cleared his throat, then shook his head. "Maybe in a while. When I'm not..." He looked down at his hands, and Katara could see that they were trembling. She understood. "Maybe we could sit down for a while? There should be a sitting area in the back... I think."

There was, but Katara was surprised that Zuko wouldn't know about it. "Rin was the one who did all of... this, you know," he said, gesturing to the entire room around them. It was a response to her unasked question, no doubt. "I hadn't even seen this room until the day she..." he trailed off, but he'd said enough for Katara to surmise that the first time he saw the nursery was the day his wife died.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to go somewhere else, somewhere Zuko wasn't surrounded by memories of his loss. "It's lovely. She had great taste," Katara affirmed genuinely. She really did love this room. Unlike the rest of the palace, which was all dark reds and maroons and blacks, the nursery was decorated in softer yellow, gold, and orange tones. It reminded her of the sunrise. Nevertheless, perhaps a change of venue was due. "The princess has spent enough time inside her room, though, don't you think? Maybe we could take her somewhere else, for variety's sake. Do you have any suggestions? Like, say, maybe somewhere you used to hang out when you were a kid..."

Zuko nodded, accepting her premise, his expression then growing pensive as he thought of a place they could go. Katara watched him as she gently rocked the baby in her arms, wondering if there were really so few places in the palace grounds that held happy memories for him that it took him this long to think of even one. But just a few seconds later, he spoke up. "The gardens," he said with full certainty.

Katara was all in for that. She thought a little bit of sunlight would do them all good.

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**Author's notes!—**

The recitation Aang reads in the beginning of the chapter is one of the daily recitations included in the book _Daily Readings from the Buddha's Words of Wisdom_, which was edited by Shravasti Dhammika and published in 1989. Yee-Li is an actual character in the AtLA universe; she's from the comics, which, again, I haven't read, so if I get something fundamentally wrong about her please do let me know so I can fix it.

Also, I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but there's a reasoning behind the mourning period in the Fire Nation lasting twenty-eight days. In Japanese, the number four can be pronounced the same as the word for "death" ("shi"). At the same time, the number seven ("shichi"/"nana") is a lucky number in Buddhism, which is an important religion in Japan. I could've gone with a base-seven period for the mourning rituals, but seven days would've been too short for plot purposes, and forty-nine days would've been too long, so I decided to go with 4x7 in the sense of "wishing the person luck in their voyage after death." Hence the twenty-eight days.

Oh, and these are not Zuko's only reasons for trying to distance himself from his daughter. More on that later. Either way, I hope by now it's clear that he's understood that he was wrong on that front. Never let it be said that Katara's hopeful speeches of hope aren't _super effective_.

There were supposed to be like... three more scenes to this chapter, but the Zuko/Katara scene here got so long that I'm gonna have to split my plan for this chapter into two, instead. You know, as it happens. *rolls eyes* I'll try my best to write the next one quickly before the _Stranger Things_ fandom takes over my life again, but I can make no promises. Do let me know if you're liking this so far, however; that always helps! I'm sorry I haven't been able to reply to all of your PMs— I have precious little time for anything (as evidenced by how sloooooowly I write these stories) but I will always try my hardest to respond to your reviews. Thanks for your wonderful comments, everyone! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Neither is Love a Cage****,** _Chapter 3_. PG-13 (possibly M later on), drama/romance/angst, Zuko/Katara + Aang/Toph, post-finale but diverges before LoK canon.  
_Love is the freedom of flying accompanied. It is letting be without possessing._

**Note****:** Rated PG-13 for now— might go up to M in the future, who knows. Will include some Sokka/Suki if I can manage to fit them in. Post-finale but canon divergent later on. Story starts some fifteen years after the ending of AtLA, and while some things from LoK will remain, some others will not. See author's note at the end of chapter 1 for more details.

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_[Future site of the URN Capital City in Yue Bay, United Republic of Nations - 115 AG]_

By the time dinner was over, his conversation with Yee-Li from that morning had somehow slipped Aang's mind. This is why, when there was a knock on his bedroom door, he thought it might be... well. Someone else. Still, for one second he found himself disappointed— and a second later, terrified. If he wasn't a monk, he might've let out a curse word.

"Oh! Uh, hi, Yee-Li," he squeaked awkwardly, stiff as a board as he stood at the threshold of his room, and that was definitely not "stiff" in a good way. "You're— here."

"Yes," she retorted with a carefree smile, taking advantage of his surprise to let herself into his room. "You asked me to have sex with you, remember?" she added as she made her way to the side of his bed. "I hope you found dinner filling today; I'm no doctor, but I've heard nutrition can affect the quality of the seed." She turned around and looked at him expectantly. "So, are you ready?"

Aang had never felt more like a panicked cat deer in his life, and he'd faced Fire Lord Ozai in a bending battle to save the world. Whatever had possessed him to think that asking a random Air Acolyte (granted, Yee-Li was a very nice and helpful and accommodating person, but he would hardly call her a friend, let alone anything more) to _bear his offspring_ was a good idea? "Uh... I guess?"

"Great!" Yee-Li said, and set about getting ready.

"Okay, um, what do you— _what are you doing?!_" The reaction was so sudden when he saw her start to take off her sash, that he airbent himself back three feet and accidentally hit his back against the doorframe, causing the door to forcefully close from the impact (thankfully, because he'd totally forgotten to close it before).

"Taking my clothes off, of course," Yee-Li replied matter-of-factly. "I've heard people also do it with clothes on, but I figure it's probably more efficient this way." She continued unfastening her robe like the utter alarm that had to be obvious in his expression was some mildly amusing consideration. As soon as she dropped the fabric and her (very, very naked!) chest came into view, however, Aang found himself abruptly turning on his heel so he could face the door rather than her (very, very naked!) form. He also tightly closed his eyes on top of that, because why tempt fate.

"Could you— could you put them back on, please?" he requested, trying very hard not to sound like a pre-pubescent child rather than the 28-year-old man he was. It's not that Yee-Li was not attractive (he was only human, come on), or that he was some kind of a prude, as he had plenty of experience himself after all those years with... well. His one sexual partner. It was just that the idea of just... doing it... in such a clinical manner felt very wrong to him. He just didn't know how to articulate that.

"Is something wrong?" Yee-Li asked, but he heard the rustling of fabric start up again and he assumed she was doing as he asked. "Do you not want to do this anymore? Because if you're not feeling like it, we can always try another day. I don't mind."

"I just," Aang started, then paused to clear his throat from the knot that had formed there. "I just was hoping that we could, I don't know— that we could maybe start slow?" he suggested. "Like... kissing, maybe?"

"Okay," he heard her agree without any objections. There was a pause for a heartbeat before she added, in a somewhat theatrical whisper. "I'm fully dressed now. You can turn around."

Aang did so with as much dignity as he could muster, though he was sure he was blushing like he hadn't since he was a teenager. Or perhaps since a certain someone cured him of his inhibitions, but whatever. He turned around, indeed finding her fully covered up, and gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, Avatar Aang," she said, genuinely sounding unconcerned. "Whatever makes you feel more comfortable is fine with me. Shall we try a kiss now, then?" she offered, and he nodded, taking a step closer to her, then another.

Once they were standing close enough to each other, there was a bit of a scuffle as they both tried to figure out how to go about this, where to put their hands, who would lean in, etc. In the end, he held her by the waist, she rested her hands on his shoulders, and they met in the middle.

And it was... nice.

It _was_ nice, Aang thought, unsure of why it sounded in his head like he was trying to convince himself of the reality of that statement. Her lips were soft and supple, and when she caught his lips between hers and tugged, it felt good. She was not shy with her tongue as it stroked the inside of his mouth and tangled with his, and the gentle caress of her hands on the back of his neck was doing a lot more to calm his nerves than their entire conversation before this. It was perfectly nice.

But... that was it. It was nice, nothing more than that. It didn't make his heart sing or his blood boil as he'd always thought a good kiss should. It didn't make him want to... have sexual intercourse with her. It wasn't particularly turning him on. It was just... something they were doing, that didn't really affect him in any way other than he appreciated the gesture. It was like he could pull back at any point, smile at her and thank her, just as he would if he asked her to pass him the salad at dinner or something.

It was nice, and it was almost sweet, in a naïve, innocent sort of way. It reminded him a bit of his first few kisses with Katara when he was a kid, back before he learned what a _real_ grown-up, adult kiss was like. What it felt like to want to be as close as physically possible with a woman, entwined until you couldn't tell where your body ended and hers began. When a kiss was only a preamble to the overwhelming desire to take someone to the heights of pleasure and derive pleasure of your own from theirs. There was none of that here, and it was somewhat confounding.

Plus, there was something... off. Something about his arms, he thought. For some reason, the angle of his arms as he held her waist was awkward. Aang was decently tall— maybe just a little taller than average, but Yee-Li was nearly as tall as he was, and her waist was just much higher up than what he was... used to. It was throwing him off a bit. Not to mention their mouths were just about even in height, so he didn't need to bend down to kiss her, and it was almost making him feel like he wasn't... doing anything. Like he wasn't contributing anything to the kiss. It was strange.

As they pulled apart for air, Yee-Li smiled at him. "Was that good?" she asked, and he nodded, because it _had_ been good, really, and he wasn't about to complain when she had already been so attentive to his concerns. She seemed content with that. "Good. So are you ready to go a little further, then?" she asked.

And Aang balked.

Taking a step back and away from her, he took a breath and blurted out: "I-I don't think this is going to work..." He shook his head emphatically and looked everywhere but at her for a moment, but then he realized what he was doing and forced himself to look at her as he effectively rejected her advances. She was still smiling.

He saw her gaze move down pointedly toward his groin, and then back up to his face. "Not doing it for you?" she asked, although her smile was once again tinged with that subtle edge of amusement she'd shown a bit earlier.

"Oh, no no no no!" Aang rushed to reassure her, eyes wide and hands waving from side to side in front of him as if to emphasize the negative answer. Great, he'd put her in this awkward position to begin with, and now he unwittingly insulted her to top it off. Some Avatar he was! "It's not you, I swear. You're— you're lovely, really," he insisted. For spirits' sake, he'd just seen her naked; she was beautiful, and any hot-blooded heterosexual man would be thrilled to have her offering to sleep with them, but nooooo, Aang had to go and be a freaking weirdo. That wasn't her fault at all.

He shook his head again. "It's really not about you. It's just— I—"

He cut himself off, not even knowing how to finish that sentence. Yee-Li seemed to know better than him, though, as she finished it for him. "...You want me to be somebody else?" she offered. Her tone was gentle, not accusatory in the least, but more like she was just stating a fact that didn't really bother her one way or the other. But it still hit Aang hard, because it made him realize that she knew. All of them, the Air Acolytes, they probably all knew.

Granted, the building the Air Acolytes were inhabiting in a small island off the coast of Yue Bay was sturdy, made out of solid rock by some of the world's best earthbenders for them to stay in while a larger Air Nomad temple was being constructed. The walls were thick, and once you were inside a closed room, you had near-total privacy. But of course, no one was naïve enough to think that when the Avatar and the Chief of Police of the URN Capital City locked themselves in his room, it was because they were just chatting or hanging out. It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

And Aang didn't truly mind. Monks were, by nature, not prone to gossip and explicitly opposed to judgment. They weren't about to spread around the news that he was sleeping with Toph, nor would they think less of either of them for it. But they definitely knew. And from Yee-Li's question it dawned on him that perhaps they, standing from the outside looking in, had a better understanding of his relationship with Toph than even he did. Or at least of what he wanted it to be, even if he couldn't admit it to himself.

But that was the thing: he'd been thinking of Toph through this entire endeavor, hadn't he? Hoping it would be her at the door, comparing everything that happened to his experience with her. His body was used to her, and that's why holding Yee-Li felt so awkward, so _wrong_. He had a connection with her, and that's why kissing Yee-Li felt like... nothing.

Hell, he wouldn't have asked Yee-Li to sleep with him in the first place if he hadn't argued with Toph the last time they spoke. The whole thing, it dawned on him now, was an ill-advised attempt to... what? Make Toph jealous? Get back at her for sleeping with other men? Even things out between them? He wasn't sure, but whatever the reason was, it wasn't a good reason. And the entire attempt had backfired on him, because Yee-Li was right: he wanted her to be someone else. He wanted her to be Toph.

He wanted to be _with_ Toph.

Not as just friends. Not even as friends with benefits, either. He wanted a relationship— that much he knew— but more than that, he wanted a relationship with _her_. Being with her felt _right_, and anyone else was just... not. In Toph's own words, he'd "caught feelings," and boy, was he really screwed now.

Yee-Li was looking at him like she understood that he was coming to an important realization inside his mind. When she took a step closer and laid a hand on his shoulder, she effectively snapped him out of his musings. "Sounds to me like you've got some stuff to figure out before you're ready to try something like this again, don't you think?" she asked with a supportive smile. She patted his shoulder twice. "Talk to her. You never know what might happen. And if things don't work out, I'm always here to help."

With one last nod, she walked around him and toward the door, closing it behind her as she exited the room, leaving him with his thoughts. And he definitely had a lot to think about. With a sigh, he let himself fall back onto his bed.

_Spirits. How do you convince the most stubborn person you know to let you love her?_

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_[Royal Caldera City, Fire Nation]_

They didn't go to the turtle-duck pond.

Of course, Zuko wanted to take his daughter there someday, make memories with her the way his mother had with him, but somewhere in the back of his mind there was the idea that the baby was still too young for it to be safe to come into contact with wild animals, so he suggested they go to a different section of the gardens, a small plaza with an ornamental stone fountain surrounded by colorful flowering bushes.

He had some memories in this garden, too; when he was little, he used to come here to pick flowers for his mother, much to the annoyance of the royal gardener. The man clearly would've loved to kick him out, except for the fact that he was the Crown Prince. It was one of the few things he successfully got away with when he was a kid, at least until Azula learned to talk (and subsequently tattle on him).

Katara laughed when he told her the story. It was a little-sister thing, she told him; she didn't have much in common with Azula, but tattling on your dork of an older brother seemed to be a universal law of little sisters everywhere. A part of him still wondered what things would've been like if he'd had the chance to actually be friends with Azula, to have with her even a fraction of the closeness Katara and Sokka had with each other.

Although he didn't visit Azula as much as he ought to— not because he didn't want to, but simply because she was too far away from Caldera, and Fire Lord duties kept him mostly tied to the city— he still hoped she could get better and spared no expense for her to get the best possible care. He'd tried to be a better older brother for Kiyi since he learned of her existence, and though they weren't the closest of siblings, again because of the distance and Zuko's limited time, she visited as often as she could; their relationship was warm and supportive, and it felt good to have a second chance to have that in his life.

He was still thinking about sibling relationships when Katara told him to sit on the ground at the foot of a tree and handed the baby to him while she went to take a look at the flowers. Now, holding his daughter for the first time, he found himself utterly mesmerized. She was quiet, still sleepy from her earlier nap, but she grasped his finger in her tiny, soft hand without any hesitation and Zuko knew, he just _knew_, that she'd have him wrapped around her little finger for the rest of his mortal existence.

He swept the tip of his fingers, feather-like, over the midnight-black hair that fell across her forehead. He lightly stroked her little eyebrows and down the bridge of her button nose, unable to keep himself from smiling when her expression scrunched up in response to his touch. She relaxed again when he went back to stroking the crown of her head, though, leaning into his touch as much as a newborn could.

"Doesn't seem so scary now, does it?" he heard Katara ask, and he lifted his gaze toward her, finding her smiling in his direction while standing in front of a white dragon bush she must've been admiring just before. "Being a father?"

He shook his head, looking down at his daughter again. His little miracle. "If she stays this well-behaved, then no," he replied, careful not to startle the baby with his comment. Katara was just far enough that he didn't need to raise his voice for her to hear him, but he couldn't exactly whisper either.

Katara let out a very unladylike snort. "Doubtful. She's your kid, after all. Do you remember how moody you were when you were a teenager?" She chuckled teasingly and leaned down to take in the aroma of one of the red-white flowers. She seemed pleased by it as she pulled back.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Yes. Uncle loves reminding me of it, too," he deadpanned.

Katara laughed, shaking her head as she pulled her attention back to the flowers, this time moving closer to a fire lily bush. Choosing one particularly nice-looking bloom, she carefully plucked it, rotating it by the stem for a couple of seconds as if appraising it, before turning to him with a sheepish expression. "Don't tell the royal gardener."

It was his turn to chuckle. "I'm the Fire Lord. Pretty sure he can't yell at you for picking flowers if I let you do it." He watched her take the flower to the back of her head, inserting the stem into the bun that was holding half of her hair up as an adornment. She shifted her attention to the next flower bush, and for a second the thought crossed his mind that she looked like she belonged there. Looking at her, moving about the royal gardens as comfortably as she would in her own home, you'd never think she had been born in a place that was covered by snow and ice for most of the year.

He didn't know if it was that deep sense of familiarity that made him say it. Perhaps it was just the inherent vulnerability of holding his child in his arms. Or maybe there was just something about Katara herself that made him reveal more of himself to her than he would to anyone else. Zuko was not great at putting his feelings into words— understatement of the century, really— but Katara somehow seemed to drag them out of him with her mere presence. From the Crystal Catacombs beneath Ba Sing Se to this very moment, he just found himself opening up to her without even really meaning to.

It was what made writing to her so easy, what led him to seek her advice on issues personal and not. She was so open, and she _listened_, and she didn't judge— and when she did pass judgment, it was likely because he deserved it. But it always came hand in hand with understanding and support, and Zuko had had so little of that in his life that he craved it like a sunflower sought the sun.

So maybe that's why he found himself actually vocalizing what had really been bothering him since the day his wife passed. What really led him to ignore his newborn child for the first three weeks of her life. Something he couldn't even bring himself to tell his uncle or his mother, and even with Katara around, a full week passed that he'd managed to hold it all inside— it was unbecoming of the Fire Lord, really, to dump his feelings of inadequacy and guilt on other people, they all had better things to do than to coddle him anyway— but now, right there, sitting by the fountain with two people who inspired him to be better just by being near him, he just... blurted it out.

"It's not just that, you know," he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the shimmer of the fountain as the sunlight refracted through the falling water. "What made me stay away from her this whole time. It wasn't just the fear."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katara straighten up from where she had been examining his uncle's jasmine, which grew over a small wooden trellis off to the right side of the garden. "What was it, then?" she asked, concerned and curious at the same time. When he didn't reply straight away, the concern won over. "Zuko?" she gently prompted, forgetting about the flowers and starting to make her way toward him instead.

Zuko looked down at his daughter for a second— she'd fallen asleep again— and then leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree he was propped up against. "I just..." He trailed off momentarily, just as Katara finally stopped directly in front of him. He could see in her big blue eyes that she was worried. He sighed. "How do I look her in the eye," he finally came out with it, "when she asks me where her mother is, and I have to tell her Rin's not here... because of me?"

"What?" Katara exclaimed, clearly not expecting that particular revelation. She quickly gathered up her skirts so that she could crouch down to his eye level. "Zuko, what are you talking about?" she asked, frowning at him. "Rin's death wasn't your fault."

He didn't mean to be rude when she was obviously trying to make him feel better, but that assertion was so incorrect to him on its face that he couldn't help but scoff. "She died in labor. She wouldn't have been pregnant at all if I didn't _have_ to have an heir," he pointed out, though he thought what he was saying was pretty self-evident— particularly for Katara, who was a healer and had examined his late wife several times through the pregnancy.

His "self-evident" explanation only served to make her frown deepen. "Well, it's not like you forced her or anything!" she retorted, seemingly baffled by his argument. "It takes two people to make a baby, Zuko. She knew being your wife meant having children, and she still married you."

Zuko shook his head, now starting to get exasperated. "I knew she had a weak heart since she was a child. They made me aware of it early on during the marriage negotiations." His teeth clenched in tension; he tried his best to stay calm so as not to disturb the baby, but it was difficult. "I should've known that pregnancy would be dangerous for her. I should've chosen someone else—"

"No," Katara cut him off sharply. Now she looked about as frustrated as he felt— and probably a little angry, too. "You don't get to take away her agency just because you want to throw yourself a pity party. You aren't the only person here who cared about her, Zuko. I did, too. She was a friend. And it is _because_ she was my friend that I know how much Rin _loved_ the Fire Nation, and what a _great_ Fire Lady she was. Her duty was the most important thing to her, and she was well aware of what it entailed. She knew the risks and she chose to take them. She was that brave."

Zuko swallowed heavily, a knot in his throat. He had nothing to say to that— she was right. Rin was a sweet woman and had hated to see people suffering. When they got married, she eagerly threw herself into all kinds of projects to help the citizens of the Fire Nation, particularly those of the lower classes who had been so affected by the Hundred-Year War. It's why she was so well-loved by the people. Zuko wouldn't dare diminish any of that. And yet, it was still difficult to let go of the idea that she might still be alive if she hadn't married him. He couldn't help the feeling.

Katara's countenance softened when she noticed his obvious internal conflict. Similarly cautious not to bother the baby, she adjusted her position so that she was kneeling on the grass instead of crouching, and stretched her right hand forward to cup his cheek. Her thumb cradled the lower edge of his scar, and he couldn't help but close his eyes at the contact. Other than his mother, Katara was still the only person he had ever let touch his scar. Even back when he was with Mai, she tended to actively avoid touching it because she knew it made him uncomfortable. His relationship with Rin was different, and not necessarily conducive to this type of affectionate touches. But with Katara it had always just been one of those things she did. He didn't mind when it was her.

She looked at him for a moment before speaking again. "You know what she told me the last time I saw her?" she asked, but it was a rhetorical question. Zuko hadn't been there, so he couldn't know. "I was giving her a check-up. It was the day I told her she was going to have a girl." Her gaze lowered to the baby sleeping in his arms, and she smiled before meeting Zuko's eyes again. "She was so happy. She touched her tummy gently and said, 'My daughter is going to be the best Fire Lord the Fire Nation has ever seen.' She was so proud."

She lowered her hand from his face and used it instead to lightly caress his daughter's dark hair, much like he had earlier. The baby didn't stir. "Rin wanted this," she reminded him. "She wouldn't have had it any other way. And she wouldn't have wanted you to blame yourself for her death. Your daughter needs you at your best."

"I know," he agreed in a raspy murmur. "It's just..." He didn't know what to say. Intellectually, he knew she was right. Rin would never blame him for this; it was simply not the type of person she was. And of course she had been aware of the risks; she had been dealing with her illness her entire life, after all. But at the same time, it wasn't like Zuko could just turn this feeling off like one would extinguish a torch. It didn't work that way.

Katara paused in her ministrations, a determined expression on her face as if she'd just had an idea. "Okay. You know how you told me when I first got here that I shouldn't feel guilty about Rin?" Zuko nodded, not entirely sure where she was going with this. "Well, it's not any different in your case. If I shouldn't feel like it's my fault, why should you?"

He found himself blinking, not having expected that argument. She noticed, and it clearly made her feel validated in her approach. "Can't argue with that, can you? Here's what it boils down to: either none of us is guilty, or we both are. And you don't want me to feel guilty, right?" She laid her hand on his forearm where it held up the bundle of blankets that was his daughter. Her touch felt cool against the skin exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. "So you have to let go of your own guilt, Zuko. If you won't do it for yourself, then do it for me, instead," she finished with a heartfelt smile.

After a moment of astounded silence, Zuko chuckled, shaking his head. This woman... she was on a league of her own. Granted, he was sure the more he thought about it, the more holes he'd find in her logic, but regardless, he couldn't exactly refuse without making it sound like his reassurance from earlier in the week had been nothing but lip service. She was basically using his own argument against him, and it was brilliant. "Okay, you win. I'll just have to try harder to get over it, I guess."

"That's all I ask for," she said magnanimously, giving his arm a caring squeeze.

She seemed like she was about to say something else, but that was when his daughter woke up from her slumber and started squirming in his arms. Startled, he moved to adjust his hold on her, but that only seemed to make her start crying. "Oh no, what do I do? What do I do?" The more he fretted, the louder the crying got, which only made him fret more. He probably should be handling this in a much more dignified way, but he had zero experience with babies. Literally none. What if he did something wrong and accidentally broke her?

Katara seemed to find his distress immensely funny. "You try to calm her down, silly!" she told him, laughing all the way through the sentence. "Here." Shaking her head, she pushed herself up to her full height and extended her arms down to him, signaling for him to hand his daughter over to her.

Once she had the baby in her arms, she started to rock her up and down gently, trying to soothe her discomfort with soft, melodic words. "Poor little flame. You're cranky because daddy woke you up, aren't you?" She threw an impish look at Zuko as she said that. Zuko rolled his eyes; he didn't think they had a way of knowing what had actually woken her up, but he wasn't about to start an argument, so he'd just let that one slide. "Silly daddy. Doesn't he know a princess needs her beauty sleep?"

Katara brought the baby near the fountain and sat down on one of the large rocks that bordered the feature. Zuko sat and watched, trying to learn as Katara managed to bring his daughter's loud wails down to a series of blubbery sobs in just a matter of minutes. It was amazing. "How do you know why she's crying?" he asked, trying to wrap his head around it. She made it seem so easy.

"You don't," Katara replied matter-of-factly. "She's a newborn, Zuko. Crying is all she does." While still lightly rocking the baby— Zuko made a note of that, it seemed to be working the best— Katara used the one hand she could free safely to pull a thin tendril of water out of the fountain.

She carefully bent the water into a shape Zuko recognized as a dragon; long, thin serpentine body, wide wings, the similarity with the real creatures extraordinary all the way down to the whiskers. It was a level of detail only a master bender could achieve— Zuko didn't think he could do something like this with fire even now, though he was certainly going to try— and the fact that Katara was pulling it off while distracted by a crying baby only made the achievement even more impressive.

With a twist of her fingers, the water dragon started flying in circles in front of her, directly above the baby. "She's probably just hungry," she suggested, going back to Zuko's earlier question. "We should head back to her wet nurse soon." She didn't move, however, focused as she was on calming his daughter down.

It took a minute or two of Katara gently shushing her before her sobs finally died down, the shimmering, watery creature floating above her finally catching her attention. She probably couldn't follow the movement with her gaze— she was way too young for that. He couldn't remember how he knew that; probably someone had mentioned it to him at some point during Rin's pregnancy, he wasn't sure, but it sounded right to him. She definitely knew something interesting was happening above her head, though, as he could see her tiny fists clenching and unclenching as though she wanted to reach for the dragon but couldn't.

Katara noticed the interest, as well. "There we go," Zuko heard her say, and with a twirl of her fingers, the dragon sprinkled tiny droplets of water on his daughter's face. The baby reacted as expected, squirming and rubbing at her face with her little fists, but other than that she seemed to like it, as she didn't start crying again. Katara laughed and repeated the action. Zuko was just completely enthralled by the whole thing.

Eventually he had to get up on his feet, as his back was starting to bother him— he wasn't as young as he used to be and a tree trunk was not the most comfortable backrest. He wanted to make his way to the two of them, but at the same time he hesitated to do so. He didn't want to break up the magic of the moment. So he stood there and watched them for a moment longer, thinking to himself that this was the first time since that fateful day three weeks ago that he actually felt... at peace.

"General Iroh mentioned that it's a tradition in the Fire Nation that the father is the one to name the child," Katara interjected unexpectedly, although her attention was still focused on playing with the baby. She absentmindedly sent the water dragon back into the fountain. "Have you thought of any names yet?"

Zuko took his time in replying. Truth be told, he hadn't really given it any thought— had been actively avoiding thinking of his daughter at all, really, to his eternal shame. But now that he finally let himself ponder the question, he found he didn't really have to think about it at all. He let his gaze take in the scene before him: His beautiful friend sitting by the fountain, a fire lily in her hair, holding his baby daughter contentedly in her arms as the sunlight bounced off the falling water and drew fractals all around them like a halo. It took his breath away, and he wanted to remember it, always.

"Yes," he finally gave the question an answer, the name tumbling out of his lips almost like a prayer. "Izumi."

Katara smiled; clearly, she approved. "Good," she said, her tone low to match the solemnity of the moment. She swept his daughter's hair gently to the side before leaning down to press a kiss on the baby's forehead. "Welcome to the world, Princess Izumi."

Zuko couldn't remember the last time his heart had felt so full.

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**Author's notes!—**

Izumi means "spring" or "fountain" in Japanese.

Hey, everyone! Hope self-isolation is treating you well, and if you aren't on lockdown where you live, I hope that you're staying safe regardless. Figured since most of us have more time on our hands now, that I might as well give you a little something to read. And now that I've gotten this thing outta my head, maybe I'll actually be able to get some work done, so there's that.

This chapter's a little shorter than the previous ones, but I had to split it here as the next scene is going to be too long. I hope you still enjoyed it! Next up (whenever I actually get around to writing the chapter), Aang and Toph have a _~conversation~_, and possibly we'll see the Gaang finally reunited. That's about as much as I can tell you without spoiling things. Anyway, please let me know in a comment what you thought! Take care, all.


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